


Right on the Line

by DoreyG



Category: Doctor Strange (Comics)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Community: fan_flashworks, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6513517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re tired,” he surmises, and has to remind himself that he has his crush completely under control as Stephen gives his usual guilty little nod, “that’s perfectly alright, Stephen. Just get un- in the bath, and I’ll be through in a minute to tend to you. There should be bubbles already, I know you find it somewhat hard to relax without them.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right on the Line

“You seem tense.”

“That’s kind of what tends to happen when you get almost eaten by a tentacle monster, Wong,” Stephen makes a weary face, shrugs his scarf off his shoulders and down into a pile around his feet, “do I sense a hot bath in my near future? Please tell me that I sense a hot bath in my near future, it would make this entire clusterfuck of a day _so_ much better.”

“Luckily for you, I ran one just before you got in,” he smiles fondly. Hesitates for a long and faintly embarrassing second, as he always does when he imagines Stephen naked, before turning in the direction of the bedroom door, “I’ll just go prepare some tea, for when you’re done.”

“Ah, Wong?” Stephen’s sheepish voice manages, only when he’s actually got his fingers on the doorknob. He hesitates for a second before turning, but in the end gives in to inevitability – allows himself to glimpse the slightly awkward smile on Stephen’s face, the one capable of making him do just about anything, “about that. I hate to ask, but the tentacle monster _was_ rather difficult to deal with and...”

And this time is no different, no matter how much of a bad idea it is.

“You’re tired,” he surmises, and has to remind himself that he has his crush completely under control as Stephen gives his usual guilty little nod, “that’s perfectly alright, Stephen. Just get un- in the bath, and I’ll be through in a minute to tend to you. There should be bubbles already, I know you find it somewhat hard to relax without them.”

“You are a god amongst men,” Stephen informs him fervently, and presses a brief hand to his arm as he staggers to the bathroom. Soft, warm, seemingly designed largely to remind him what an absolutely terrible idea this whole thing is.

...But he has his totally inappropriate crush under control and so there’s really no reason to worry. None, at all, in any way. _None_.

The minute he waits before going in is perhaps the longest of his life.

When he steps into the room Stephen is, thankfully, already submerged in the water. Bubbles cover all truly interesting- _embarrassing_ parts of his anatomy, and his head is tilted back with his eyes closed. He looks peaceful like this, serene, deeply handsome in a way that never fails to strike him in the gut...

But luckily, such peace can never last long for a man like Stephen Strange. He takes one uncertain step closer and that head lifts, those eyes sleepily open, “mm. How do you always manage to make the water the perfect temperature, Wong?”

“That would be telling,” he smiles, falling into their usual teasing pattern as easily as he can, and crosses the room in a few swift strides. Tries to forget his silly hesitation, as he crouches down besides the bath and feels the heat of Stephen’s skin just a few inches away from his, “do you want me to start with your hair?”

“Please,” Stephen sighs, making a face as he does so, “though I must say, I don’t envy you the task. It must be horrible back there with all the slime and blood and rubble...”

“It looks-“ beautiful, gorgeous, thick and dark over his fingers in a way that he’s pretty sure could make any decent person fall in love. He’s had a lot of fantasies over the years about Stephen, but that hair has featured prominently in a good deal of them, “much the same as it always does. Should I be worried, about the blood and rubble?”

“Only if you’re also worried about the slime,” Stephen sighs, and gives a ridiculous little pout as he leans away to get more shampoo. Doesn’t stop until he rolls his eyes, and shuffles back again, “seriously, Wong, I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about, I’m just a little tired.”

“Nothing to worry about,” he repeats wryly, and starts massaging the shampoo into Stephen’s hair. Perhaps a little more enthusiastically than strictly necessary, just so he can feel the texture and watch the man’s eyelids flutter from the pressure of the touch, “you are aware that, given the length of our association, that phrase only makes me worry more?”

“That’s only because you’re paranoid,” Stephen retorts, and then lets put a truly indecent sound. Leans his head all the way back, stopping only a thankful breath short of lying on his lap and the hardness that waits there, “Ngh. How do you also always know the perfect way to touch me, Wong?”

“I-“ would touch you in more ways, if it was at all appropriate, “again, cannot tell. Do you want me to do your body now?”

“Mm,” Stephen stares at him through lidded eyes, an odd smirk lingering on his lips, “please.”

He takes a deep breath, glad of the pause afforded by having to reach out to soap his hands, and then returns to his task. Stephen’s upper body is largely out of the water, so that seems as good a place as any to start. His shoulders are broad, but nicely so – not the slightly absurd top heavy weight that certain other heroes carry. He makes sure to dig his fingers in, attempting to properly get into the tension that Stephen is so obviously carrying.

“Ngh,” his attempts produce another indecent noise, one that seems to radiate warmly right through him. When Stephen glances back at him, his eyes are still lidded and the smirk lingers upon his lips, “perfect.”

“It’s very hard to get you clean when you keep looking at me like that,” he scolds, a touch shakily, and barely bites down on a sigh of relief as Stephen turns away before he can glimpse the heating of his cheeks. The man’s arms come next, an only slightly less dangerous area. He runs his soapy hands down them, and can’t quite help but think what they’d feel like wrapped around him, “you’re so tense, it can’t be good for you.”

“Well, Wong, it’s very hard to avoid that when it comes to the matter of tentacle monsters...”

The man’s hands are the worst part. Still damaged, but that only adds an interesting roughness to their delicacy. He finishes cleaning them quickly, lets go of them afterwards in a way that he hopes is casual as opposed to guiltily and obviously aroused, “mm, as you keep saying.”

“It’s true!” Stephen sniffs, a touch defensively, and then sighs as he gets onto his chest. Practically melts into the deliberate touch, in a way that helps his guilty arousal not one bit. To be sitting here with these fantasies, in this position... Well, he’s pretty sure that very few could avoid such urges, “but, nonetheless – I _am_ sorry for worrying you, Wong.”

“I am unfortunately used to it by now,” he confesses, and reaches until he can clean Stephen’s belly. Soft skin, covering tight muscle. The source of more truly filthy fantasies than he’d like to admit, “the only thing I wish to know is whether I can do anything to help?”

“Hm,” a long pause, an oddly expectant one. Stephen seems to hesitate for a long few seconds, and then leans back to stare at him with that odd expression in place yet again. That faint smirk, with so much heat lingering just behind it, “well. You could, if you were at all inclined, help me to clean something lower than my stomach.”

He freezes. Perhaps in every possible way, his thoughts skittering to a flat halt and his hand stilling on the soft flesh of Stephen’s stomach. Surely the man can’t mean it like that, surely he must mean it in the borderline innocent sense that they’ve been progressing so far. Or as a joke, a thoughtless bit of fun that has no real meaning behind it other than mockery. Either way, the thought of the lingering implication behind it must be...

Far too real, in a way that he never expected to face.

Stephen continues to watch him through those lidded eyes, smirk firmly in place. His body is still, so deliberately so that its only movement is through slow and steady breathing. He looks much as he ever does, but if he peers closely enough he can see a faint flush across the man’s cheeks and stretching insistently down his chest.

He gulps, hopefully not noticeably, and ever so slowly trails his hand up Stephen’s body. When his fingers reach a nipple, the man’s eyes flicker shut briefly and his blush becomes clearly visible, “to help with the stress relief?”

“Amongst other things.”

He should, if he had any sense in his head, get out of this situation now. Should pretend that he has no idea what Stephen is saying, excuse himself rapidly and go stand in the pantry for half an hour until he has this under control. Stephen could come downstairs later, fully clothed, and they could both pretend it’d never happened. Tease each other as normal, get on with life without a single glance back.

But...

He’s never had much sense in his head, not when it comes to Stephen. He hesitates for a long second more, and then takes in a deep breath. Slowly trails his hand down Stephen’s body again. Feels the delicate nub of a nipple, and then the hardness of abs, and then the slightly softer scattering of hair across the man’s stomach, and then the warm surface of the water like a line between what is proper and what is most certainly not.

He crosses it. Slowly and shakily, but as surely as he can. He’s been wanting this for years, and he can’t quite bring himself to stop if this is the one time he’s going to get close to everything he’s ever wanted. The water is still warm, if slightly cooler now due to all their dithering. Stephen’s eyes slide shut, as he reaches between the man’s legs.

Stephen’s cock is hard in his hand, heavy, different from his own in a way that only serves to make his own arousal more pointed. The man is half hard already, but rises to full hardness as he tries his first shaky stroke. He lets out a gasp, and his eyelashes flutter as he settles back against him more securely.

“Wong...”

And that, as he’s heard Stephen say so many times with that wryly attractive smirk curving his lips, is the last straw.

He tries another shaky stroke, memorising the feel of Stephen’s cock in his hand, and then tightens his grip and starts to move more surely. Stephen’s mouth falls open and another shaky groan rends the air, but that’s hardly a reason to stop. He listens to the gasps with hot pleasure unfurling low in his belly, picks up his speed to the accompaniment of helplessly shaky breath.

Stephen acts like he’s never experienced a handjob from another human being before. Which seems unlikely, considering how frankly fixated on hands the man is most of the time. He finds himself unable to mind much, as he keeps pumping and the throaty gasps transform into full bodied moans. The water starts to splash softly, driven by both the motion of his hand and the way Stephen braces himself. The play of it against the bath is something hypnotic.

...Or would be, if he wasn’t already hypnotised by Stephen. With his head thrown back, his eyes closed and moans erupting from his throat, he’s somehow even more handsome than he usually is. He twists his wrist, and watches with fascination as the man arches up. It’s as if he’s caught between two extremes, the steady pressure between his legs and the warmth behind him. It’s something intoxicating.

And literally everything he does seems to add to that impression. The way he groans, the way he moves, the way he loses himself in the motion like nothing else in the universe exists. The way his eyelashes flutter, the way his damp hair curls chaotically over his forehead, the way his skin _feels_ so soft and hard all at once. Stephen Strange is a vision, a taunt, one of the most perfect things in all the universe. And he knows, in his sensible mind, that love can only exist when both parties fully assent...

But, as has been established, he’s never really had a sensible mind when it comes to this man. As he gives a final stroke, feels Stephen go stiff in his arms with the pleasure of it, he can only feel love. Cannot resist pressing a kiss to the side of that warm neck, as the man slumps hot and heavy against him.

They linger for a moment, warm and peaceful and with his cock still hard, and then he forces himself to sit back. Shake the remains of Stephen’s come off his hands, and plaster a vaguely businesslike expression on his face. He’s already resigned himself to this being a one time only deal, no need to make it awkward by displaying his emotions for everybody to see, “so. Tea, then-?”

He isn’t expecting any reaction beyond a sated and dismissive groan, certainly isn’t expecting Stephen to rapidly spin around in the tub and reach up to wrap warm arms around his neck. The man’s lips are soft, still faintly metallic from whatever he went through with that creature earlier. It takes him a ridiculously long few moments to realize that they’re kissing, properly kissing in a way that involves lips and tongue and even the slightest hint of _teeth_.

Well... That was unexpected.

“Stephen,” he gasps when they finally part, lips buzzing and head fuzzy and arousal so insistent that it actually _hurts_ between his thighs, “really, you don’t have to-“

“You think that I’m not the type to reciprocate, when you’ve just fucked me?” Stephen growls, droplets of water slowly trailing down his chest in a way that is the most hypnotising thing he’s ever seen, “you think that I’m just going to let you _leave_ , when I’ve finally got you to act on that crush you’ve been harbouring for years now?”

“You-“ he blinks, a thousand questions running through his head. On the subject of his crush being noticed, his crush being reciprocated, the way Stephen is looking at him now... So many, all coalescing into a ball of confusion in his head made worse by his arousal, “you considered that, ah, fucking?”

And Stephen smiles, roguish and wide and in a way he never thought to see directed at him. Drags him down into the water, clothes and all.


End file.
